


Amore

by psychosomatic86



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Yoglabs, in which labs xeph is not a lil bitch!, this is unrepentantly gooey like gotdamn havent written like this since 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosomatic86/pseuds/psychosomatic86
Summary: Xephos decides to Surprise Honeydew with a little evening out together.





	Amore

**Author's Note:**

> Just a rando drabble for my good fwend @pxnxg on tumblr. They Do The Good Arts, my dudes, so if you want that good yogtent (yog content????) then go forth to their domain~

“So then,” says Honeydew, traipsing down the hall after Xephos’s long strides, “what diabolical schemes y’got for us t’day?”

 

He notes they’re not following any particular line on the floor, wending corners and corridors without the usual regularity.

 

“Ah, well, yes something very grand, friend,” answers Xephos, and though Honeydew is well accustomed to his vague explanations by now, he huffs a sigh nonetheless.

 

“Better’n been worth it getting me up so early.”

 

“It’s half six.”

 

“I know what I’m about.”

 

“Well,” and here Xephos halts them in front of a nondescript door panel, as many feet wide as it is tall. “I think you’ll think this is very worth your time, pal.”

 

Prompting the door open by thumb scan, Xephos lopes into the room, leaving Honeydew to flounder in his wake.

 

“So,” Xephos inquires as Honeydew gapes stupidly. “This good enough?”

 

More than that, in fact., the room comprised not of the Labs’ reinforced steel and gold, but instead something far, far grander and impossible: an entire, bloody city. They have entered upon a small limestone outcropping from which tapers a rickety wooden pier set mere inches above a vast, snaking body of beryl water, its depths inestimable, its surface placid. Creating faint ripples, however, massive, beautiful Byzantine structures sprout upwards in columns and arches and windows the color of salmon and sandstone with accents of vermillion and primrose. Several vessels float lazily amidst the architecture - gondolas, Honeydew realizes, one of which is moored at the pier, gleaming walnut brown with the adornment of rust gold ribbon at its modest prow. Overhead, a cloudless sky casts warmth from a sun just out of view. It takes Honeydew some time to find his voice.

 

“Did you bloody steal Venice?” He says at last, and Xephos snorts a hiccuping laugh.

 

“Only the blueprints, friend. It’s a sim, see?” And here Xephos makes his way to the pier, kneels down, and swirls his hand through the water. Threads of silvery green flourish away from his fingers, dissolving a translucent hole through the dark green blue of the water but fading back to corporeal liquid when Xephos retracts his hand and lets the waves lose form.

 

“Uh-huh, and what about the boat?”

 

“Oh that’s real,” Xephos says. “The only real thing, actually. I wanted to run a full cycle and see if the environment can handle a small trip.”

 

Crossing his arms, Honeydew eyes his friend incredulously. “And what about if it can’t?”

 

“Then we just fall about six feet to the floor proper. Nothing to worry about. I can always get some Testificates, but I thought you rather might like this experiment.”

 

“S’that what you’re callin’ it?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“This screams’a bribery, Xeph. What’re you up to.”

 

“Nothing! Honest, Dew, how can’t you trust me.”

 

For a long moment, Honeydew just stares at Xephos, the man suffering several incriminating expressions under the scrutiny that confirm Honeydew’s suspicions of, well, _something_ suspicious. Nothing emerges to a concrete degree, though, so, with a sigh, he accepts the inevitability of some sort of fate, and trudges down to the pier and into the boat.

 

“Alright then, let’s get this over with.”

 

“Must you be like that, friend?” Xephos pouts, divesting his labcoat and red jacket, leaving him in navy stripes that too closely mimic the uniform of a gondolier. It’s his typical dress, so Honeydew says nothing until Xephos surreptitiously procures a straw hat from a small compartment in the boat - its brim wrapped neatly in a scarlet ribbon - and dons it with a cheeky grin.

 

“You’re damn lucky this water ain’t real,” Honeydew says.

 

“Why’s that?” Xephos asks, playing at innocent.

 

“Cuz I’d shove you overboard and let y’drown.”

 

“But I can swim fine, pal.”

 

“Yeah. Unfortunate, that,” Honeydew grumbles. “Now’re we gonna get on with this test’a yours or am I gonna sit here and get sunburnt?”

 

“ _Ah_ , damn,” Xephos tuts to himself. “Knew I forgot something.”

 

“What, your shame?”

 

“No-o-o, a parasol to keep my honey nice and cool.”

 

“That’s it, I’m out,” Honeydew exclaims, blushing furiously, but before he can sidle over back onto the pier, Xephos nabs the oar and pushes them out into open ‘water’, laughing despite the glare Honeydew stabs his way.

 

“Whoopsies, guess we’ll just have to see this through, friend!”

 

“Or I can fall to my death. Six feet should do good enough damage.”

 

“Doubt it,” Xephos says, steering the bow in the direction of the buildings. “Plus I had to divert power from several divisions to run this on full.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“The cloning bay’s on stasis reserves.”

 

Sighing extravagantly, Honeydew says, “Xeph, I can’t bloody tell if you’re tryna do something nice, be a total annoying twat, or orchestrate some ridiculous accident to off me.”

 

“Or all three,” Xephos comments idly, more concerned with guiding the oar than Honeydew’s accusations.

 

“Annoying twat it is then,” Honeydew grumbles, and, turning his back to his friend, slouches in his seat.

 

It’s difficult to complain, though, the scenery and sounds and even smells too breathtaking for petulant upset. Xephos offers no further cheek, so neither does Honeydew, and he begrudgingly admits to himself this is all quite relaxing. As well, Xephos proves surprisingly skilled at steering the boat, and the buildings steadily encroach until their shadows loom across Honeydew’s face and up on all sides of him, vacant and crumbling and elegant.

 

“Sure put a lotta bloody detail in this, huh?” He mumbles.

 

“Mm, yeah. We’re thinking of marketing to billionaires. You know how they can’t be arsed with the effort, so why not bring the whole bloody monument to your back garden?”

 

“Yeesh, bit bougie, ain’t it?”

 

“Don’t see you complaining.”

 

“I _just_ was, Xeph.”

 

Ignoring him, Xephos takes up humming a low melody that Honeydew immediately recognizes, and he can’t help laughing.

 

“Don’t you know anything less stereotypical?” He says, turning round to see his friend leant against the oar pole and smiling down with lazily lidded eyes.

 

“But, my dear,” Xephos says, “that’s amore.”

 

It’s horribly cheesy, and inspires as much to kick the oar out from Xephos’s arms or at least verbalize the desire to do so, but Honeydew decides there’s no point to it. Though loathe to give Xephos the satisfaction, he can at least admit to himself he is genuinely enjoying this.

 

“Bugger,” he says instead, shaking his head and turning back around.

 

“Alright, let’s keep going. Knowing you this ain’t just some boat ride.”

 

“Ah, _Signore_ is very keen, very keen, indeed,” Xephos praises, his accent so abysmal Honeydew once again contemplates the detriment of a six foot freefall.  

 

But they travel on, Xeph expertly avoiding collision with the other boats drifting aimlessly through the canals, though he assures they’re holograms, anyway.

 

“Bit eerie all empty like this, innit?” Honeydew wonders aloud, not exactly put off by the lack of other persons, but the buildings exude a sort of sadness without inhabitants boisterously asserting their livelihoods. Or maybe he’s relying too heavily on his own presumptions about the Italian people.

 

“You’ll be glad for our next stop, then,” Xephos says. “Which is ri-i-ight… up there.”

 

Honeydew follows the indicated direction, his gaze happening upon a small rotunda outcropped from its surrounding, hollow apartments. It’s small and dusty pink with ivory embellishment, at least where one can view the color through the deluge of wisteria draping every sconce and eave and column in fragrant purple. It boasts glamor among the more humble design of the rest of the city, and Honeydew can only assume it was contrived of Xephos’s machinations, though for what purpose only becomes apparent when they dock and Honeydew sees a table has been set in front of the columns, candles lit and wine glasses shimmering, and even a Testificate decked out in full waiting attire poised at their apparent beck and call.

 

“Now wait just a minute,” Honeydew says as Xephos hops from the boat, proffering a hand for him to follow suit. He’s still wearing the stupid hat, and Honeydew cannot look at him directly for fear of his telling blush giving him away. It’s a stupid hat, and dammit if Xephos doesn’t look stupidly dashing.

 

“Everything okay?” Xephos asks.

 

“Thought you said this boat was the only real thing,” Honeydew says more into his beard than aloud.

 

“Well, clearly I lied, friend,” Xephos replies plainly, and gestures again with his hand. “C’mon now, food’ll get cold otherwise.”

 

Honeydew takes it with no small amount of somersaults assaulting his stomach, further flustering when Xephos does not let go, guiding him as such to the table where the Testificate is just finishing filling their glasses with a crystalline white wine.

 

“Ah, excellent excellent,” Xephos effuses, and the Testificate excuses themselves with a half bow and a honk.

 

“Jeeesus, how’d you get ‘em so whipped?” Honeydew jests as they take their seats.

 

“Oh they owed a favor,” explains Xephos with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Did they now.”

 

“Mm… yyyyup.”

 

Xephos pops the ‘p’ in excess with a grin to match, and Honeydew tries very hard not to kick him under the table.

 

“You’re bein’ right insufferable, you know that?” He says, at the very least to clear the air of any misconceptions his idiot friend may have.

 

“Mmmhm!” Xephos hums, eyes sparkling as he rests his elbows on the table’s edge, his chin in his hands.

 

“What has gotten in’ta you!” Honeydew exclaims, but before Xephos can answer, the Testificate returns, bearing plates of some delicious smelling seafood dish Honeydew has never seen and would certainly butcher the name of.

 

After some honking from the Testificate and several mocking expressions on behalf of Xephos behind his hand, they are once more alone, and Honeydew sets to busying himself with eating to avoid further, amorous pretense.

 

“Wait, we have to toast!” Xephos says, immediately grabbing his glass, staring expectantly at Honeydew to follow suit.

 

He does - an argument would be fruitless - and blushes his way through Xephos’s excessive nonsense of, “To our many wonderful endeavors friend, and, especially, to us.”

 

“You done?” Honeydew manages to keep his voice steady.

 

Xephos _tings!_ their glasses together.

 

“Yup. Dig in. This’s fresh caught… uh… something or other.”

 

“Don’t havta tell me twice,” Honeydew chuckles. “I love fresh caught something or other.”

 

“Excellent!” Xephos says. “Knew I’d get it right.”

 

“Would say you got the whole bloody spiel right, y’bugger,” Honeydew says under his breath, though apparently not quiet enough as Xephos perks up from across the table.

 

“Did I now, friend. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all evening.”

 

It’s a joke, but something in the way his friend words it sits unhappily in Honeydew’s stomach and, quite without realizing, he reaches across the table, takes Xephos’s free hand, and kisses it.

 

“Thank you, dear,” he says sheepishly as Xephos blinks at him, a flush coloring both their faces.

 

“I - I - well yes, I mean, I’m so glad you - ehm - like it, dear - uh - Dew - _ahh_ …”

 

Honeydew laughs. “How’s that medicine taste, hm?”

 

“Fishy,” Xephos retorts, his footing found as he takes a bite of his food.

 

“Bugger,” Honeydew snorts, and has still not let go Xephos’s hand.

 

Eventually, they finish the meal with a dessert of fresh fruit and coffee, and then Xephos is urging them back to the gondola.

 

“C’mon, c’mon, I don’t wanna have to override this thing just to delay sunset,” he says, quipping as much as he is serious, and Honeydew permis himself to be shoved a little unceremoniously into the boat.

 

“You want some help there,” Honeydew asks as Xephos struggles to find a good angle off of which to propel them.

 

“Actually, yes, if you wouldn’t mind -”

 

Before he can finish, Honeydew has anchored his hands to the side of the dock and shoved them clean away, throwing a satisfied smirk up at Xephos who gives a bemused roll of the eyes.

 

“You’re welcome, love.”

 

“Thank you, dear.”

 

A comfortable silence chases their laughter, and they glide in the quiet presence of one another, back between the buildings, chasing their shadows as they stretch and stretch with the artificial sun’s slow descent in the sky above.

 

By the time they make it to the open water between the city proper and where they first entered, crimsons have already begun to play off the faux waves, the technicalities of simulated liquid shattering the light in spectacularly impossible lattices soon joined by oranges and yellows and even a whisper of green.

 

“I think here’s good,” Xephos says, securing the ore in the rowlock so it somewhat prevents drift, and steps down from his perch behind Honeydew, hands on his hips, looking satisfied and still charming as ever in the hat.

 

“Well, this should be good for viewing I’d say.”

 

“Mm, not quite,” Honeydew says, and, grabbing hold of Xephos’s wrists, hoists himself up.

 

“Go on, you’ve got the long legs,” he says, gesturing for Xephos to have the seat.

 

“What about you, friend?”

 

“Oh, I’ll make do.”

 

Making do consists of plopping himself directly in Xephos’s lap the moment he’s situated, the intention initially bordering on demure, the execution resulting in ridiculous.

 

“You bloody idiot,” Xephos snorts, shifting his legs as best he can to accommodate the position.

 

“Maybe shoulda invested in something a bit less dumb and fancy,” Honeydew chastises.

 

“Maybe so,” Xephos agrees, wiggling one last time before giving up and accepting his uncomfortable fate.

 

“You… you did like it, though, right?” He asks after a moment.

 

“Of course I did, y’silly bugger,” Honeydew says.

 

“Really?”

 

“Xeph, you made me a whole bloody city.”

 

“I know, but -”

 

“But nothing, y’git. You made me a city, took me on a boat ride and out t’dinner, and looked a right snack the whole time, if I may add.”

 

“Mm, you _may_ ,” Xephos smiles into his palm, and Honeydew’s heart flutters.

 

“You’re frustratingly wonderful,” he sighs.

 

“And you love me,” Xephos singsongs.

 

“Gee,” Honeydew murmurs, leaning forward, sparing a beat to remove his hat and toss it to the bottom of the boat. “Guess I do.”

 

As they embrace, the sun rains radiance in a splendor of color, not that either of them see it, much too preoccupied with one another, and even as darkness creeps in with ink and navy and simulated stars, they still do not take notice.

 

They are much too busy, kissing slow and soft, as the full moon rises over their own little Venice

 


End file.
